The Grey Wolf & The Golden Dragon | Aegon Targaryen II

The Remains of House Strong

Aemond

Aemond averted his gaze as much as possible as he gently stripped Alysanne down to her small clothes. The wound on her leg was deep, but the one in her side was worse, continuing to bleed steadily, even as he pressed a cloth against it.

"Move, my prince." The young woman commanded, shoving him aside. Her arms were loaded with jars of salves and herbs and other mixes he couldn't recognize. "Cut your hand and let the blood soak into this." Alys Rivers demanded, handing him a small, lacy handkerchief. Aemond stared at her, his eye wide in confusion and disbelief.

Aemond had heard of blood magic; he'd read about it in some of the old texts in the library of the Red Keep. It was even rumored that House Targaryen's bond with dragons had originated from blood magic. But it was one thing to read about something in theory, and another entirely to take part in it. He glanced at Alysanne's sleeping form, watching her blood seep into the cloth at her side, and made his decision.

As Alys rubbed a strange smelling elixir over Alysanne's wound, Aemond sliced into the palm of his hand, letting the blood pool until he could use the handkerchief to soak it up.

"Have you done anything like this before?" Aemond couldn't stop himself from asking as the handkerchief in his hands slowly turned red. Alys gave him a pointed look that told him he might not want to know the answer.

"Give it to me." she demanded softly, taking the handkerchief from him. Aemond watched in fascination as she wiped the cloth over Alysanne's side wound, slathering her skin in a thin layer of his blood. Then, she crossed the room and tossed the handkerchief into the fire, speaking low under her breath.

Aemond had never given blood magic much credit or consideration, but the way the fire roared and consumed the cloth like a ravenous beast would remain in his mind for days to come. Alys returned to Alysanne and began to wrap her waist in a long, thick bandage.

"It's done, then?" he asked softly. Although she remained unconscious, Aemond watched in awe as the color began to return to Alysanne's cheeks.

"It's done. She will live..." Alys replied as she cleaned her bloody hands in the water basin. Without another word, she gathered up her jars and disappeared down the corridor.

Aemond could hear the dragons roaring and the battle raging on, but all of his focus remained on Alysanne. As gently as he could, the prince lifted her and carried her through the eerie, empty halls until he found an undisturbed chamber. He pulled back the sheets and laid her down, the whimper that followed made his chest tighten.

"Everything's going to be all right, Lys. I promised Aegon I would keep you safe." He whispered as he gently brushed her hair back from her face. As he watched her sleep, Aemond felt a strange sensation crawl across his skin, akin to the feeling of being watched. Whipping around, he found the room completely empty, save for himself and his good sister.

Aemond remained there at Alysanne's side until Ser Allic Reyne entered the chambers to inform him that Harrenhal had been won. Only then, did Aemond leave the knight with Alysanne so that he could collect the remains of his uncle.

Daeron

Daeron watched the last mast of the triarchy's ships sink beneath the waves of the Narrow Sea. Every few minutes, he scanned the horizon, hoping to catch a sign of Jacaerys somewhere among the debris. Twice, he caught glimpses of what he hoped would be his nephew, only for him to realize what he had seen was another sailor's body or piece of debris.

"Jace! Jacaerys!" Daeron called out one last time, his throat burning from a mix of overuse and smoke inhalation. For the hundredth time, he told himself to give Jace one more minute to reappear, but there was no sign of him.